


Switching Seats

by thinkinghardhardlythinking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking
Summary: Sam and Dean save you from vampires and you move in with them. Slowly, you realise you are developing feelings for younger brother, Sam. A fluffy romantic story featuring our favourite hunter brothers.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

When you first met Sam and Dean, they were the hunters who saved you from vampires. They had stormed into the nest and taken them out and freed you.

“Are you ok?” Sam had asked with genuine concern in his eyes.

“No.” you had answered, honestly.

When they had asked if they could give you a ride anywhere, there had been nowhere you could think of to go. You had only just arrived in town, wanting a fresh start after a horrendous break up, when the vamps had grabbed you on the way to a motel. The guys had insisted you stayed with them that night and that was many months ago now.

At first you were grateful, of course, but also still in shock, trying to process what had happened. For a long time, you stayed stuck in trauma, numb. The boys and you had fallen into an easy rhythm and soon it felt strange to consider that you might not live there, in the bunker, with them.

They were both great, of course. Once the numbness started to fade, you realised that they were gorgeous and sexy and exactly the sort of guys, you would normally harbour deep crushes on and you were grateful that that had not been where your head was at when you first moved in because your friendships with them had just grown, organically.

Dean was a massive flirt and had a way of making you feel totally at ease. He was funny and you had fallen into a relaxed banter quickly. You could see why he was such a hit with the ladies and were grateful that he had become your friend because if you had met under different circumstances, well, he could very easily have broken your heart. As it was, instead, you sang along to songs together in Baby and made burgers together, quoting lines from your favourite movies, and laughing. You loved him to bits. The first time he had referred to you as ‘family’ you had welled up. He muttered something about ‘chick flicks’ and tried to undercut the emotion of the moment but he had also given you a hug that was tender and heartfelt.

Sam was….something else. From the start, he had been the one who would come and check on your wounds and the one who would knock on your door at night to see how you were. You talked about how scared you had been and the nightmares you had and it was easy to be open and emotional with him. He was deeply caring and when he sensed you were tipping from lying in bed, healing to lying in bed, wallowing in fear and depression, he had come to you and, very gently, asked if you could help him with something.

“Sure Sam, whatever you need.” You had said, only realising afterwards that it was all a ploy to get you up and engaged in something that wasn’t reliving vampires tying you up and violently tearing at your neck. The task he asked for help with was researching lore on a creature they were hunting. He would drip feed you facts and you would read up in books. He showed you how to use the Men of Letters library and archive and you slowly grew to look forward to each day, learning more about monsters that you hadn’t even known were real a few weeks ago. Later on you realised that actually both Sam and Dean knew all the facts you found and proudly told them and it was all just a ruse to help you get past your ordeal but they handled it with such kindness that you didn’t feel stupid, you just felt touched that they had cared enough to want to help you. Slowly, over time and with Sam’s help, you actually became quite good at the research and they genuinely started asking you to find things out that were useful. It felt good to be able to help them, you owed them so much, and you were pleased to find that you not only had an aptitude for researching and case work, but that you actually enjoyed it too.

You had gotten used to having breakfast with the boys and then sitting in the library, across from Sam with a spare laptop that was now yours and a stack of hard bound books and old Men of Letters folders. Sometimes Dean would join you and sometimes he wouldn’t, magically reappearing around lunch time. Occasionally, the boys would leave to go on hunts but they would check in and ask for you to find a way to kill a specific God or a subspecies of Djinn or something.

“How are you, Y/N?” Sam would ask.

“We miss you kiddo!” Dean would holler down the phone.

It felt safe. It felt like home.

Whereas you and Dean had a loud and raucous friendship, your friendship with Sam was different. He was funny too but in a slightly less in your face way, he’d make clever jokes that crept up on you and occasionally was weirdly sassy, there were less puns and obvious jokes than with Dean, but when he made you laugh, he looked so proud. You talked about films, different ones than the ones you did skits from with Dean, and books and often you found yourself having deep and meaningful chats about life well into the night. He was sensitive and caring. Dean was too, but with Dean it was camouflaged slightly, he’d notice you weren’t singing along to radio and start poking you in the ribs until you ended up laughing, “There she is.” He’d say.

Sam was much more open with his feelings and his concern. He would notice that you hadn’t eaten much that day or that you had mentioned that you hadn’t slept well and would come and sit in the seat next to you.

“Hey, you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“I know, Sam.” you’d say and he’d share a story about something he’d gone through and before you knew it you found yourself opening up to him and your shared problem would feel halved. When you mentioned that you’d never seen a film that he’d raved about, he made sure to get it and have it ready to watch for the next movie night. When you saw a commercial for a Thai restaurant and mentioned that you hadn’t had Thai food for ages, the next day he picked up Pad Thai. When you had a bad nightmare and were screaming in the night, Sam had been the one to wake you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! It’s OK, it’s just a bad dream. You’re safe.” He said as he sat on your bed and pulled you into him, stroking your hair. “You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He’d say it again and again until you felt it.

They were both amazing and you felt so lucky that you got to be in their lives.

Recently, things had started to change. The numbness you had felt before had begun thawing a while ago, but now it was gone entirely and in its wake new and troubling feelings were starting to emerge.

The first sign was that you’d noticed that the ease with which you would mess around with Dean was not there as much with Sam. That’s weird, you thought, and you found yourself thinking, oh but I’m always like this, I can be relaxed and flirty and silly with male friends but the minute I have a crush on someone I clam up and feel self-conscious. The moment that thought had crossed your mind, you felt fear. No, that couldn’t be what it was. Sam was your friend and he was lovely, you absolutely could not catch feelings and ruin this friendship, or this living arrangement, that was perfect, just as it was. No. Nope. Uh uh. You literally shook your head to try and dislodge the thought and forced yourself to read about the Men of Letters’ accounts of the Salem Witch Trials.

The next day, when you were getting ready, you noticed you were putting extra effort into your hair and make up. When you had first moved in, you had just thrown your hair up in a ponytail and occasionally put on some tinted moisturiser. Not that you were doing a smoky eye with a bold lip now, but you were obviously doing more. You also found yourself wearing the top that you remembered Sam had liked that time, though perhaps he was just being polite. You caught yourself looking in the mirror and it was different, you were looking at yourself like a ‘girl’, which was fine, but you hadn’t done that in the weeks prior. As you turned to see your side profile, you realised what was going on and felt disgusted at yourself. Stop this at once, you said to yourself, you are being ridiculous.

“Hey Hey! Hot stuff, coming through!” Dean said as you entered the kitchen turning from the stove where he was frying up bacon. Oh God, now you felt even more self-conscious.

“Thanks,” you said, adding a wink that you hoped added a confident bravado that you absolutely did not feel. “I thought I’d move on from my ‘trauma victim chic’ look. I’m glad you like it.”

Sam was sat at the table but you could not look at him. Be normal, you told yourself, for God’s sake be normal. But you couldn’t force your eyes to land on him and you were already getting frustrated with yourself. Stop with this girlie bullshit, Y/N, you’d said to yourself. Stop. It. Now.

“Mornin’?” came Sam’s voice, as he leaned in to force himself into your eye line.

“Morning Sam!” you said, in a way that must have sounded forced and overly cheery. “Hey, you know what, I think I’m going to just have coffee this morning, I’m not that hungry and I want to finish off that witch research so…” you trailed off as you filled up a coffee cup and sailed out the door. You could hear the boys’ confused tones as they asked after you but you were getting worked up now. This had to stop.

You sat at your usual place in the library and tried hard to get stuck in to the case files in front of you. It sort of worked until, of course, Sam entered.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He asked. You looked up and could see concern etched all over his face.

“Yep. You?”

“I’m fine but I haven’t known you to skip breakfast, not since you got here anyway, and you seem…are you sure nothing’s up?”

It felt horrible to see him worried. It was so like Sam to pick up on something being off and to want to understand and empathise. He was so kind and considerate. It warmed your heart to feel his genuine concern for you. So much so that you actually managed to forget your silliness for a minute and remember that this was Sam you were talking to. You took a breath and smiled, genuinely.

“I’m good Sam, just trying to get back in the swing of things.”

“OK, well, I’m here if you want to talk about it, you know that right?”

“Of course. Thank you.” you said. You felt calmer. Maybe things were going to be alright.

Things were not alright.

You had managed to get stuck into your work. You found the lore around witches fascinating. However, it wasn’t long before you looked up at Sam, sat across from you.

He was reading from a big leather bound book, concentrating and occasionally making notes. Looking at Sam was not new in itself, but you were aware that right now you were LOOKING at him. The way his hair fell forward as he leaned over the book, glossy and chestnut coloured, you wanted to reach out and push it behind his ears. You wanted to run your fingers through it, it looked soft. The way his eyes moved over the page, you loved how his eyes looked different depending on the light. Right now, they were mainly pale green. They were beautiful, like sea glass, you thought. Every now and then his lips would move, a casual purse, almost imperceptible if you weren’t staring, sometimes he’d lightly bite his lower lip. Did people normally do that? Did he? You hadn’t noticed it before, but then you didn’t remember looking this closely. It was so unbearably cute, it made your stomach do a weird dip involuntarily.

He got up to get a book and you quickly averted your gaze back to the page in front of you, not looking back until he was facing the shelves, away from you. There was no ‘new information’ here, you’d have to be deathly unobservant or painfully slow witted to not know that Sam was tall with broad shoulders and a great physique. You felt bad even thinking about his physique. He’s your friend, don’t be creepy, you thought. But you couldn’t help yourself from raking your eyes up and down his frame. He wasn’t just tall like some guys were tall, he was exceptionally tall, which made sense because he was exceptional, you thought. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt over jeans. It was no different from his normal get up. But you looked as he reached for a book on a high shelf and found yourself staring at the muscles in his back moving under his shirt, and as he reached for another elsewhere on the shelf you saw his shirt ride up, exposing just a little of his taut stomach and the waistband of his underwear. It felt indecent, but only because you couldn’t help but imagine his skin under your fingertips, or your lips and your hands gently sneaking past that waistband. Oh God! Stop it!

The rest of the morning, you found yourself surreptitiously looking at Sam, repeatedly. Normally, you would chat as you worked and he tried a few times and you sort of managed but it was obviously, markedly different. You couldn’t help it. Something had changed, a switch had flipped, and now he wasn’t just your lovely friend Sam. He was handsome and sexy, his arms looked so manly, hell all of him looked so manly! You just wanted him to put those arms around you. Every bit of skin you could see looked so inviting. How you had you not noticed how big his hands were? And how were they so masculine at the same time as being beautiful? As his fingers turned pages and tapped on his laptop keys you were hypnotised. You wanted them all over you, tracing every curve of you. He looked beautiful. Boyish and manly and animalistic all at once. As lunch time rolled around, you were starving and you noted that you had not managed to do any constructive work at all that morning. You felt guilty for looking at your friend, who trusted you, with hungry eyes and impure thoughts. 

Not that they were all impure though, some were the stuff of school girl fantasy, which made you feel not just guilty but also pathetic. He smiled at you often but now you were actively craving it. You imagined kissing him. You found yourself imagining the two of you, cuddled up together, with him burying his head in the crook of your neck and ever so softly saying your name, in that voice of his that was the perfect pitch between low and deep and soft and lilting. Oh God, you thought, this is bad. You hadn’t felt like this for a long time. It reminded you of your first crush at school, and felt just as ridiculous. You had to get a grip. You would not let this go side ways, you would not surrender your friendship, which meant so much to you, to this barrage of hormonal ridiculousness. Sam deserved better. You vowed to nip this right in the bud.

After lunch, you grabbed a couple of files and went to the other side of the library, settling in one of the leather armchairs there.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, perplexed. “Do I need a shower or something?” He made a show of lifting his arm and dramatically sniffing.

“No, of course not.”

“Y/N. What is going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all day and now you are sitting on the other side of the room?”

“I’m just reading Sam, everything’s fine, honestly.”

He obviously didn’t believe you but he let it lie. You slowly managed to marshal your thoughts and get some actual work done. You managed to stop thinking about Sam for the whole afternoon and somehow, this managed to help you turn the tide.

In the days that followed, you managed to get a handle on your feelings and although sometimes they got the better of you - bumping into Sam leaving the shower room in only a towel, torso on display and still wet, hair combed but still dripping rivulets of water down the musculature of his chest, was a particularly challenging moment – for the most part though, things relaxed. You could keep things light and friendly, practically as they were before, even if it was a bit of an act, you told yourself it was for the greater good. Of course, sometimes at night you’d find yourself thinking of him.

Sometimes it was harmless romantic reveries, you imagined sitting with his arms around you while he looked in your eyes and smiled that warm open smile of his and laughed at something you said, and then he’d lean in and kiss you gently and then stay with his forehead touching yours for a moment. You felt giddy just thinking about what that would feel like.

Sometimes it was different though, sometimes you would start off with a tender kiss in mind but the kiss would get more heated, more urgent, without you even realising. Then you would imagine how his eyes might change when he pulled back from the kiss, you imagined they’d look darker. His hands would roam all over you as he kissed your neck. You could imagine his weight on you as he moved against you and the sound of his breathing as it got deeper and more laboured. You couldn’t help but touch yourself as you wondered what he might say, what noises he would make, what his body would be like totally naked, how his hands and mouth would feel on you, what his face would look like as he entered you, what his body would feel like rolling with yours, between the sheets.

You told yourself that as long as you didn’t let your night time fantasies affect how you were with him in the day, it wasn’t so bad. It was a crush and it would pass and you’d still have your lovely Sam, nothing would be ruined. Maybe it was just because you hadn’t been with a man for long time? The main thing was to keep your friendship with him protected and unaffected. You generally managed well. Movie nights, meal times, drives in the Impala, general chit chats and tomfoolery were all, for the most part, back on track.

You knew you had to keep working from the other side of the library though, not only so you could stay in control of your thoughts but so you had any chance of getting any research done at all. It annoyed you when Sam brought it up because you were trying so hard, and managing better than you had expected, and every time he asked why you wouldn’t sit across from him anymore, you wanted to shout, “Because it’s what I have to do so I don’t actually fall for you, you big giant, and its hard but it’s worth it so quit pulling at that thread!” But you didn’t shout at him, because you knew he’d done nothing wrong, because he only asked because he cared. Or so you thought the first few times he asked, but weeks later he still badgered you about it and you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just let it go.

“Sam, I’m just comfy there. It’s really not a big deal.”

“So you weren’t comfortable at the table? Because when Dean and I came back from hunting in Wichita, you were sat at the table again when we came in and by the time I showered and came back you’d moved.”

“Oh my God!” you made your eyes big and pulled a face as if it to be incredulous at him “Sam, that is some very intense detective work. You sure you’re not spending too much time interrogating witnesses in your FBI suits? I think you are putting two and two together and coming up with a number that isn’t four. Really, Sam, you need to chill. You are making this into a thing, when it really isn’t. Now, are you going to watch the movie or not?”

You deftly avoided all questions about it when he asked. One time he asked you to come over and look at something on his laptop screen and motioned for you to sit next to him, which you did, but when you agreed that the article didn’t actually look like it was something Dean would think was ‘their kind of thing’ and got up to move, he huffed and gave you an annoyed stare, which you deliberately ignored. What could you say? If I stay sat here, I’ll get lost in how good you smell, I’ll want to run my hands over the skin on your arm not covered by your shirt just to see what it feels like, I’ll want to turn and look, really look, into your eyes and slowly, but urgently, I’ll want to kiss you? Best to just keep a bit of distance until the feelings passed. You were really hoping they would pass.

“Why are you busting Sam’s balls with this whole seating thing?” Dean had asked one day when you’d left the bunker for tacos, Sam saying he’d rather make a salad at home.

“Dean, I’ve told him it’s not a big deal. I don’t know why he keeps going on about it.”

“Because it’s weird. You’re being weird. I’m telling you, even I think it’s weird. In fact, when people do stuff that’s weird like that, it’s usually for a pretty simple reason.”

“Dean,” you said, in a tone that was meant as a warning “I don’t know what you are getting at but-“

“Yeah, you do. And if you need to do this childish dance with Sammy, I get it, but don’t lie to me. Do you have feelings for him?”

You were quiet for so long, the answer was obvious anyway. You felt caught out and ashamed.

“Please don’t tell him.”

“Why not? Don’t you think it might be better to have a reasonable adult conversation about it, rather than arguing about where you guys sit?”

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow “You? You are trying to do some Dr. Phil talk about your feelings thing?”

“Hey sweetheart, do as I say, not as I do. I don’t have anything I need to say to anyone. I’m good, hell, I’m great. But you’re my Y/N, and he’s my brother and you both do that talking about your feelings crap. I don’t want this to go bad and then everyone’s upset and you’ll move out of the bunker and then who will do shots with me for no reason on a Wednesday night or eat junk food with me ‘til we feel sick?” He paused, looking at you for a moment and then rolled his eyes, “Look, if you don’t want me to say anything to Sammy, I won’t. For the record, I think it’s a bad idea but I don’t want to be the reason you are making that sad face. God! You’re almost as bad as Sam with the puppy dog eyes.”

You had reached over and hugged him hard and he hugged back, muttering under his breath “When did I become the grown up of the three of us?” and “You owe me, I get to choose the next five movies for movie night.”

You laughed but he was serious.

“I’m not kidding. And they’re all going to be classics that you’ve refused to watch with me. You’ll be grateful, you’ll see.”

“Classics?”

You broke apart from the hug to look at Dean’s excited face.

“Porky’s II. Caddyshack. Speed 2: Cruise Control. Tombstone. Rudy and everything Clint Eastwood’s ever done.” He looked at you with, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head.

“Jeez, you had those locked and loaded and ready to go!”

He pulled his ‘I think I’m adorable’ face at you and to be fair, he was.

“From the first time I saw you checking out Sammy’s ass in the kitchen, I knew I’d better start working on a list.”

“Dean!” you said, embarrassed but laughing despite yourself and going to swat at him for being an ass. He laughed and dodged your flailing hands. “Five. You get five movies. That’s all.”

“We’ll see.” He’d said, playfully.

Two days later, the boys left on what appeared to be a standard salt and burn ghost hunt in Missouri. You stayed behind, like normal, researching and learning about monsters, glad to not have to be facing monsters which triggered your vampire hostage memories but missing the boys nonetheless. You were finishing a plate of pasta in front of Netflix when Sam called.

“Hey, how goes the hunt? Wasted Casper yet?”

“Y/N…” you could hear from his voice that something was wrong, he didn’t sound like himself.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It wasn’t a ghost. It seemed like vengeful spirit behaviour but it wasn’t and now….” It sounded like he was holding back tears. “It’s Dean. A curse or something?”

“Text me the name of your motel and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sam, I’m coming right now. I can call you from the car, I don’t want you to be alone OK, but I’m coming, what should I bring to help Dean?”

And like that, you grabbed some books and ingredients and threw some stuff in a bag, grabbed the keys to a car in the garage and headed out.


	2. Chapter 2

When you got to the Bluebird Motel and knocked on the door of Room 41, Sam pulled the door back slowly, no doubt with a gun ready on the other side just in case. When he saw it was you, relief flooded his face. Sam was sensitive, sure, but he was also always so strong, it pained you to see him looking so worried with his brow all furrowed and his eyes full of fear.

“Y/N, I don’t know what happened. We were in the house, trying to find signs of a vengeful spirit, a-a-and we were looking around and Dean opened this box and there was this light, and it flashed and then disappeared, b-b-but then all of a sudden, Dean just, he just-“ he said, stuttering over his words as he tried to talk fast enough to get it all out, he motioned behind him and opened the door wide. You stepped in. There were two beds in the room and on the one nearest you, you saw Dean, lying deathly still, totally out cold. You moved quickly over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. He was breathing and as you put your hand on his forehead to check his temperature you could tell he was warm but, thankfully, not burning up. He was like Sleeping Beauty you thought. You turned to look at Sam. He looked desperate. You got up and hugged him. You wanted him to know you were there and that he wasn’t alone. You wanted him to be ok. Seeing his pain almost viscerally hurt you too. He leaned into the hug and you felt him squeeze you, he needed the hug as much as you needed to hug him. For a moment what started as a hug seemed to turn into something else, an embrace? You were sort of just…holding each other. It felt so intimate but also weirdly normal, like it made sense for you to be this close, like a respite from all the awkwardness of words. It was wonderful but there was no time for it. You didn’t want to be the one who pulled away first but you needed to help Dean, so you did.

“OK. I think we can figure this out. He seems stable for now and we’ll get to the bottom of this. He’s going to be OK, Sam. We are going to fix this.” you announced with as much conviction as you could muster. He sat in the chair by the door and looked up at you with desperate hope. He looked so small for such a big man, his face like a scared little boy or a wounded puppy.

You were trying to be positive for Sam, but inside you were worried about Dean. He was so cocky and hid behind a lot of swagger, but he was a big sweetheart underneath it all and the idea of anything bad happening to him, God forbid anything fatal, was beyond horrible. You weren’t used to these sorts of high pressure, life or death situations but one look at Sam as he returned from getting the box from Baby’s backseat, and you managed to slap on a brave face and centre yourself. Sam needed you now, the concern for his brother was written all over his face. He had been your rock when you had been terrified. Now it was your chance to return the favour.

Your concern for Dean was strong enough to block out any thoughts of your childish crush. Honestly, it was the furthest thing from your mind but as you grabbed one of the books you had brought, you went to sit on the bed furthest away from Sam as a force of habit.

“Really?” said Sam, annoyance in his voice. “Now?”

You looked at him and saw hurt in his features.

“No…” you said, trailing off. You wanted to explain that you hadn’t meant it, that you hadn’t really been thinking, that you just needed to concentrate and you weren’t trying to hurt him - but you couldn’t find the words. Not right now. So you simply pulled out the chair across the table from Sam and got started looking for answers.

You looked at the glyphs on the box and managed to use the Men of Letters database to narrow the magic down to being of Druidic origin. You then went through the books you’d thrown in the back of the car, searching for answers. The whole time, Sam was scouring books too but you could tell his worry was making him frantic and frustrated. Occasionally, you’d move past him to grab a different volume from the box you’d brought or a glass of water and each time you tried to gently put your hand on his shoulder as if to say, ‘Hey, I know this is awful, I’m here, it’s going to be OK.’ One time, he put his hand on top of yours and gave a little squeeze, ‘Thank you for helping, I’m so glad you are here’ it seemed to say. You had arrived at just gone 7pm, at 9.45 you found something good.

“Sam, here. Here in this grimoire, it says that there are panaceas for certain curses, cure-alls, depending on the type of magic used. There’s one here for Druidic magic, I don’t know if it will work but I think, if we’ve translated the glyphs right, maybe it could? I think it’s our best bet. I brought all the stuff we need except for Jade Dust….” You internally cursed yourself for not bringing some.

“Shop with hunters signs.” said Sam, almost shouting as he got up with haste. “In town.”

“Won’t it be shut at this time?”

He looked at you and patted his pocket where you knew he kept his lock pick.

“Not to me.”

Sam left to go get the Jade Dust and you stayed behind to get the rest of the ingredients set up and ready. When they were assembled, you sat next to Dean. You leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Don’t you worry,” you said softly. “you are going to be back here in no time. You can choose the movie on Movie Night forever, just…come back OK? Sam needs you…..we both do.”

Your heart ached for your friend. He’d saved you. You said a silent prayer that now you could save him back.

You sat up and looked around the room. It then dawned on you that there were two beds and three people. The spell, once cast, would take several hours to work. You didn’t think Sam would want to sleep during that time but what if he did?

It wasn’t a big deal but you knew you couldn’t share a bed with Sam. You just…couldn’t. It would be unfair of you to do that when you felt the way you felt. He’d think he was sharing a bed with a friend and you knew your feelings weren’t entirely friendly anymore. You didn’t know if you could handle lying next to him, no matter how worried you were about Dean, without your feelings stirring. And after ‘chair-gate’ earlier, you didn’t want to have to explain to Sam why you were sharing a bed with his comatose brother or sleeping on a chair. It occurred to you that perhaps the easiest way to sidestep even the remotest possibility of awkwardness was simply to get your own separate room, so you wandered down to the front desk and booked one with the fake credit card the boys had set you up with. This is good, you told yourself, this is the right thing to do.

Sam returned about fifteen minutes later and as you mixed the ingredients, he gently but firmly dragged a blade across Deans palm to draw blood which he added to the elixir. He then read aloud the incantation from the grimoire and a flash of light filled the room. You both looked at each other expectantly.

“It says it takes 6 hours to undo the magic.” He said, glancing at the starburst clock on the wall that said it was seven minutes past one in the morning. 

“Do you want to sleep? You must be tired.”

“I’m pretty beat but I don’t know if I can.” He said falling back onto the bed.

You knew the waiting was going to be tough. You couldn’t help but worry about Sam, you knew how much he loved Dean and you knew how scared he must be. You couldn’t bear to have him feel alone and worried but if he thought he could possibly get a few hours of shut eye in or if he wanted some space, you didn’t want to get in the way, no matter how much you wanted to stay here and be with him. And you really did. You wanted to hold him and make him feel as safe as he had when you’d woken up terrified from your bad dreams. You wanted him to know you were there and he wasn’t alone. You wanted to be close to him and look after him, Sam who always took care of everyone else, but you knew deep down that this was coming from the part of you that had been falling slowly in love with him for months now. The realisation that it had not just been a crush but something much deeper sank in powerfully, it was something you had secretly known all along and been denying to yourself and now you just knew it to be true.

“OK, well why don’t you try and if you can’t, you just come get me.”

“What?” He said, suddenly sitting up. “Where are you going?”

“Room 35.”

“You got another room?” His tone was getting perilously close to the one he used whenever the chair in the library came up and you were still spinning from your earlier revelation about your feelings. “Why would you do that? I just assumed you’d stay here with –“ his voice faltered momentarily as if he’d caught himself about to say ‘me’ but he corrected himself at the last minute, “us. I’d have got you a pull out bed if I thought you were going to be uncomfortable.”

You forced a smile that belied much more calm than you felt and tried to regain control of the situation.

“It’s not a big deal at all. I just wanted you to have some space in case that’s what you needed.”

“Really, that’s why?” he looked relieved and a little disappointed. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Look, why don’t you try and sleep, you’ve had a really long day, but I’m just in Room 35, really, come get me if you don’t drift off and either way I’ll set an alarm for when Dean should wake up and I’ll be here.”

You wanted to go hug him but thought better of it. Just go, you told yourself, before it gets any more uncomfortable.

Twenty minutes later, you heard a knock on the door.

“No luck, huh?” you asked.

He shook his head. He looked tired and troubled as he came in and sat down at the table, in the kitchenette area of your room.

“How are you holding up?” you asked as you sat down, across from him.

“I’m just hoping it works.” He said, looking intently at the formica table top. He lifted his eyes to look at you and forced a smile. “Hey, listen, thank you so much for…everything, for driving down and helping me figure this out and keeping me sane. Just,” he reached across the table and took your hand in his for a moment, “thank you.”

“Of course. I love you guys, you saved me and helped me and gave me a home. You’ve been kinder to me than….well, anyone, ever. So I’m glad to be here. Honestly, there is no question that this is exactly where I should be. What can I do now? We’ve got a few hours and if you aren’t going to sleep, how can I keep your mind off things?”

The last sentence hung in the air and you felt embarrassed as you realised it sounded almost suggestive, which was definitely not your intention. You struggled to talk quickly to clarify what you meant but Sam’s amused face let you know that it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“We could get pay per view? Or see what’s on regular TV? Or play a game? Or y’know just drink?”

“You know what’d be good?”

You shook your head but smiled at him kindly, whatever would take his mind off things you would happily do. It had hurt to see him so pained earlier, you couldn’t stand it.

“Just talking, but not about all the stuff tonight, I’m maxed out on that front, but just shooting the shit about whatever else. I could get us a drink from the mini bar and we could just talk about something else. Just….random stuff….like we used to do.”

“Yeah, of course. I love talking to you.”

“Great, but make it distracting or funny because I mean it, I cannot think about if Dean doesn’t –“

“Yep, sure.” You piped up, cutting off his sentence. He got up and brought back some bottles from the mini bar and poured one vodka and one whiskey.

“Dealer’s choice.” He said, giving you first dibs. You reached for the vodka, knowing he’d prefer the whiskey.

And then you talked. You asked him about his first crush and he told you about Rio from Top Notch Wrestling and, of course, you teased him mercilessly. Then he asked you the same question back and before long the conversation was flowing, punctuated with laughter and good natured friendly mockery. It spanned shows you’d loved as kids, past relationships, favourite superheroes and you were so grateful that any earlier awkwardness had gone. It was the easy, effortless openness that you’d had with him before and it was glorious. Warm and honest and fun. Every new bit of shared information felt precious, another part of him for you to learn about, another thing that made him wonderful. He’d just finished telling you about the time he’d broken his arm and you’d be ‘awww’ing about the idea of young Dean cycling little Sam to the ER on his handlebars when the conversation turned.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah. Anything.” You said, and you meant it. Whatever would keep his mind from dark places, you were happy to do.

“Will you tell me why you stopped sitting across from me when we are in the library?”

Your eyes shot up from your glass to his face. This? This, really? You didn’t want to do this now. You gave him a look as if to say ‘Really Sam, again with this bullshit’ but you didn’t actually say it.

“Please, Y/N.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because for months we would sit there and it was fun. We’d do our work and we’d talk a little and it felt nice. Dean always hated going through the lore and so I was used to just going through it all on my own and then you came and it was kind of great having you there,” he took a sip of whiskey, “and then you just stopped and I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong –“

“Sam you didn’t do anyth-“

“-and you were so cagey, every time I asked and I know we are fine, really, I know that, but I just….you didn’t come back, and I don’t get it. Please, just….I want to get it.”

The silence seemed like an actual palpable force between you, for what must have been seconds but easily felt like a minute, maybe two. Despite feeling lulled into a false sense of security by the easy flow of earlier chat you had said you’d do anything. And it was distracting him. You drained the glass of vodka, which Sam started refilling with another miniature straight away, while looking at you, expectantly, pleadingly.

“OK. Fine……Sam…..” This was harder than you’d even expected. You forced yourself to keep talking. “You are amazing. You and Dean are…well, you know you guys mean everything to me. I had to move seats, which isn’t even that much of a big deal, but I moved because I couldn’t concentrate on the work I was doing anymore. I just…it was fine at first, because I felt so broken and scared and just I could stare at the books and nothing could get to me, you know, I felt numb and that meant I could focus, but then I started to feel better, you guys helped me to feel better, and that wasn’t the case anymore. When I sat across from you all I wanted to do was look at you and it was distracting me….”

He looked at you confused.

“Was I making noises? Or pulling faces or something? I don’t really understand what you mean.”

Oh God. He was really going to make you say it.

“No. I just started to find you….” You trailed off, mortified.

“Distracting?”

You lifted your eyes to meet his. You didn’t mean for the look to be so loaded but you couldn’t help it, not with this confession in the air. You nodded, defeatedly.

“And that was bad, because…..?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Because?”

“You said you had one question. This is like the fifth one.” You paused hoping he’d change the subject, but he didn’t. “I found myself staring at you and…thinking about you and I didn’t want to do that because you were my friend, are my friend, and I live with you guys and it was silly, the whole thing. It was silly.”

“So…..you moved away because if you stayed sitting across from me, you would have been staring at me? And you still can’t sit there because if you moved back, you’d find me distracting and you’d want to look at me?”

You nodded. It sounded pathetic. You pounded the other vodka. You looked at him, searching his face to try and figure out what he was thinking. Had you just ruined things and made everything really awkward? Would you have to move? At least, it’s keeping his mind off Dean, you thought. His face wasn’t giving anything away.

“What did you think?” he asked with genuine curiosity, “When you were thinking about me?”

You couldn’t help but give him a look that said ‘Fuck you’ because you felt so self conscious but his face was so genuine and innocent. He wasn’t messing with you, he just wanted to know. Your look softened and you couldn’t help but be honest.

“Well, I thought you were handsome and sexy and that didn’t seem like a fair thing to be thinking about someone who was such a good friend to me, who’d been such a good friend to me when I’d needed that more than anything. And I thought that you were wonderful and unlike anyone else I’d ever met. And I thought, ‘Oh wow, he’s got such a big beautiful heart and he’s so smart and when you’re together it feels like standing in the warmest sunshine’ and I thought, don’t ruin a good thing, you’ve found a home and family and two of the best people this world has to offer. Don’t ruin it just because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor in front of your feet. You could not bring them up to meet his gaze. It felt so awkward and you felt ashamed. You’d been trying to hold this secret in so tightly, for so long now, and now it was out and you felt exposed and scared that you’d broken everything that mattered.

He leaned across that table and held your hand again but this time he didn’t let go. You forced your eyes to look at him. God, he was so fucking beautiful.

“Did it ever occur to you that instead of driving yourself crazy with all this seat swapping stuff, you could have just looked at me? Maybe, I would have wanted you to look at me. And maybe, if you did, you’d find that I’d be looking back at you?”

You were stunned. You also weren’t sure if he was saying what you thought he might be saying.

“Maybe,” he continued, “I find you as much of a distraction as you find me? Did you ever consider that?”

“Erm…no?” you answered honestly, “I didn’t.”

“Was that why you booked this room?” he asked. His voice was soft and low and he was looking at you intently. There was a kindness in his eyes but also a vague hint of playful teasing and relief that he could ask you and maybe get a straight answer. You weren’t sure if it was the intensity of his gaze or the rapid influx of vodka but you were starting to feel light headed.

You nodded.

He smiled, wide, dimples deepening and looked away as if gathering his thoughts. And then he looked back at you. His eyes looked hazel right now, and they were on you. It felt intense. He got up and walked around the table and sank down so he was kneeling in front of you. He was so tall that he was sort of still at your eye level as you sat. He took both of your hands in his, in his big beautiful hands and softly stroked them with his thumbs. It was a gentle, casual gesture of affection but it almost made you forget to breathe. This man was going to be the death of you, you thought to yourself.

“So, when you first came to stay with us,” he said, “I just saw how hard it was for you and I just wanted to be there for you. And then we’d talk and the more I got to know you, the more I thought ‘oh man, this girl…she’s funny and kind and smart’ and I couldn’t help but see how awesome you were. And I knew you were suffering and after the first time I heard you having a nightmare, I’d find myself listening out, in case you needed me.” He paused and lifted a hand to push your hair behind your left ear, “One night, after a bad dream, you fell asleep in my arms. You wrapped yourself so tightly around me and it felt good to know that I could make you feel safe. I stayed with you and I just, I didn’t want to leave. I knew, right then, that I wanted to stay holding you until you woke up and that then I wanted to kiss you.”

You were sure that surprise was written all over your face but he went on.

“And I felt bad because I definitely didn’t want to take advantage of our friendship but I knew it was something different for me then. I knew you were still hurting and I didn’t want to make anything difficult for you but I thought, maybe, someday. Then you seemed to start feeling better and that day in the kitchen when you came in and you looked beautiful, well you always looked beautiful, but you looked like you were ready to face the world again and I was glad you felt better but I also thought, maybe, maybe now I can tell her… Tell her how I feel, tell her that I wake up every day and look forward to seeing her and making her smile…and then…you pulled away from me so hard.”

“I didn’t mean –“

“And I thought maybe you could tell and that you didn’t want that. And sometimes it was OK and I’d feel…something, there, between us…and then you’d go sit on the other side of the room and I wondered if you knew, if you could tell and if you were uncomfortable and thought I was a creep or something.”

“What?!”

“And you were the same as you’d always been with Dean and you’d joke around and lie with your feet on him and go for your drives together and I wondered if maybe you liked him?”

You looked at him, totally stupefied.

“Why….what….why would you think that?”

“You’ve called him handsome before. And sexy.”

“Well, he is both those things but…I can only say those things to him because I don’t like him ‘like that’.”

He looked relieved.

You lifted your hands, one on either side of his gorgeous face, slowly letting your fingers rake through his hair, the way you’d been day dreaming about doing for months.

“I call you handsome too, and sexy, just not y’know, to your face…”

The little look of happiness on his face was maybe the cutest thing you’d ever seen, even if it was weird to think of this huge 6’5 man before you as ‘cute’. He moved his face to lean into your right hand and shut his eyes for a second, looking peaceful.

“Wait…” he said, eyes suddenly open and his features changing to confusion and then incredulity. “You said that to Dean?”

“I said it to myself….but yeah, Dean knew. But I begged him not to say anything.”

His face registered a ‘penny dropping’ expression.

“Ohhh….so that’s why ‘Caddyshack’….”

You both laughed.

“So that’s why you couldn’t let it go, the where I was sitting thing? Because you wanted to know if I was rejecting you? Even though I had no idea?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Sometimes I’d be working in the library and I’d look up and just look at you. Just having you there made me so happy. But sometimes I’d find myself staring. At your face, all concentration, really serious and it was…so beautiful. And I’d stare at this….”

He reached out and traced your collar bone.

“I wondered what it’d be like to kiss it….” He trailed off and then checked himself, you saw him relax the look of longing that had been wearing, afraid he’d gone too far. He cleared his throat and moved his hand away.

“And then when you got another room tonight I thought, ‘Oh, OK, so I must be really creeping her out’ and I just…all I wanted was for you to just come and put your arms around me. All I wanted was for you to just…be close. I was scared that I’d really started to fall for you and that I’d just freaked you out.”

You looked at him. Big, strong, beautiful Sam, there at your feet, your hands in his hair, his face open and soft and you wanted to process all the feelings running through you, you wanted to make this make sense and you also, really, really wanted to kiss him.

Just then, a loud screeching digital tone came from your phone. It was your alarm.

“Dean!” you shouted and in a flurry of activity you and Sam were on your feet and hurrying back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

You both rushed into Room 41 and to Dean. His face was still blank and unmoving. Sam shook him gently by the shoulders.

“Hey, Dean? Wake up buddy. Come on!”

There was no response. He looked at you, desperation written on his face.

“It’s OK. Just give it a minute. These things are never an exact science.” You said, as inwardly your stomach lurched with anxiety. You gently stroked Dean’s face taking in his freckles and the resident pout of his lips. You have to be OK, you thought. Please.

Suddenly, his brow crinkled and he stirred. Just slightly. But enough. You hadn’t realised that you had been clenching every muscle with fear until he exhaled and groggily opened his eyes, it was only in that moment you felt them all relax and a deep breath that you’d been holding inside, slowly left your body.

Sam grabbed him and pulled him into a hug as you slumped in a heap by the side of the bed. You watched the look of relief as Sam closed his eyes over his brother’s shoulder and warmth filled you.

“What happened? What did I miss?” said Dean’s gruff voice and it sounded like music to your ears.

“You got cursed and I thought I’d lost you and then Y/N brought you back.” Sam explained, still clinging to his brother.

“Oh, OK. Awesome. What’s for breakfast?”

He was OK. He was going to be OK.

When Dean had come round slightly and Sam had picked up pancakes from the diner nearby, you all ate. Then you packed up both cars and drove home in a convoy.

The drive gave you ample time to think.

You were beyond relieved that Dean was OK and pleased that he hadn’t heard you say he could pick the object of movie night in perpetuity.

You were still confused by the conversation you’d had with Sam last night. Part of you felt giddy and excited. Part of you felt unsure and terrified. How would this change things? You were almost scared you’d imagined it. Your mind shifted from remembering Sam telling you he’d fallen for you to the look in his eyes when he’d been there, kneeling, front of you. And your mind didn’t stop whirring the whole drive home.

When you got back to the bunker, you’d offered to make food for the boys but Dean was still wiped out and said he felt nauseous.

“Nauseated.” Sam corrected.

You both fixed him with a look.

“Nauseous means causing nausea. Nauseated means you feel sick.” He clarified. This was exactly the sort of geeky behaviour that you found endearing. Judging by the look on Dean’s face, it was the type of behaviour that made him want to punch his brother.

“How you got her to fall for you, I’ll never know.” He said to Sam. You looked from brother to brother, embarrassed and confused. “Oh, he told me all about it on the drive home. He had to, to try and distract me from his awful driving.”

“I never said you’d ‘fallen for me’.” Sam said, desperately trying to reassure you.

Dean stood up and made his way over to you. “It’s good, Y/N. It’s all really good.” He hugged you hard. “Thanks for bringing me back.”

“Anytime.” You said squeezing him back.

“Now,” he said, letting you go and picking up his jacket from the table, “I really want to grab a shower and get to bed. So, I’ll see you two lovebirds in the morning.” He winked at you disarmingly as he lovingly slapped Sam’s shoulder and walked out of the room.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He shouted back from down the hallway.

God, it was so…..awkward.

“I’m sorry about him.” said Sam.

“It’s OK. I know what he’s like. I’ll let it slide for tonight just because I’m so glad he’s alright.”

“Yeah.”

Now that it was just the two of you in the kitchen, you felt nervous. You felt like the living embodiment of the phrase ‘butterflies in your stomach’.

He stood up and walked over to you where you were leaning against the kitchen island. The eye contact felt dizzyingly intimate as he raised his hand to cup your face.

“I know last night was…a lot.” He said, gently.

“Mmmm.” You agreed, leaning into his hand.

“Do you regret anything you said?”

“I don’t regret anything but it feels weird that like…the cat’s out of the bag.”

“But no take backs?”

“No.” you said smiling, “No take backs.”

“So……I was wondering…….”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“….how you’d feel about a date. Tomorrow night. With me.”

“A date?”

“Yeah. I mean, if we’re going to do this, I figure we should do this right.”

“Are we….going to do this?”

“I think so.” He said, a warm smile spreading across his face. There were those dimples again. “I want to. So what do you say, will you let me take you out tomorrow night?”

The way he was leaning into you and slightly rocking as he held your hand, nervously waiting for an answer, was adorable.

“I haven’t been on a date for a long time.” You said.

“Me neither.” He laughed. “So….?”

“Yes. OK. I’d like that.”

He looked so happy. He was grinning.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” He said.

You found it strange because you lived together but you could see that he was trying to be romantic. Sam Winchester was being romantic. Towards you. You hadn’t expected it, ever, but it felt glorious. It was heart meltingly glorious.

It was also really late and neither of you had slept the night before. You wanted some beauty sleep before your date, you thought.

“OK.” You said, through a smile you couldn’t have stopped if you’d wanted to. “Goodnight Sam.” You said, leaning in to kiss him, softly on the cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N.” he said, beaming just as wide.

You walked towards the kitchen door. Don’t look back, you thought, try and be cool. But your head turned involuntarily as you walked through the doorway and the sight of him stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling, eyes glued to you, made all the tummy butterflies do somersaults at once. You were practically nauseated.

The next morning, you woke up when Dean knocked on your door.

“Come in.” you said as you tried to shake the sleep from your fuzzy brain. He entered with a tray of eggs, bacon, toast, coffee and juice.

“What? Breakfast in bed? Shouldn’t we be doing that for you?” you asked, sitting up against the headboard.

“Sam made it all but actually, I’m feeling fine.” He said placing the tray on your lap and climbed on the other side of the bed, half lying down, half sitting up, mirroring your posture. He was in his grey robe, still bed headed. “I thought I’d better bring you some food before you slept the day away.”

You looked at the display on the clock on your nightstand. It was early afternoon.

“Oh, shit.” You’d said, “I guess the other night really took it out of me. You really gave us a scare there, you sure you’re doing OK?” You reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately.

He scrunched up his face and moved his head away from your grasp, playing up but you knew he loved it, really. He grabbed a triangle of toast off your plate as you got stuck into your breakfast.

“Yeah, I feel fine. Good, even, now I’ve had a good nights sleep.” He continued, between bites, “I hear you are going on a hot date tonight.”

“You sure do hear a lot of things.” You said, taking a gulp of juice.

“I’m glad you spoke to him.”

“Did you know? That he liked me back?”

“Yeah but he told me not to say anything. So you told me to keep your secret. He told me to keep his. It was exhausting to be honest.”

“I gave you movie night, what did he give you?”

“Unlimited quarters for ‘magic fingers’ for five hunts and he had to let me choose where we ate with no complaining.”

“Mmm, I feel like you could’ve got more out of it.”

“What can I say, I’m a simple man.” He raised his eyebrows at you and grinned, cockily.

You ate as he picked up the remote and started to channel hop on the TV that the boys had bought you a few months back.

“Dean,” you said and he turned and looked at you, “I’m really pleased you’re OK.”

He affectionately bumped your shoulder with his.

“You don’t get rid of me that easily.” He said, with a wink.

He found an episode of Scooby Doo on the TV and you ate, happy and relaxed.

Later that day, you started to get ready. You gave yourself longer than you needed because you wanted to savour it. And you wanted to look as good as you could for Sam.

You hadn’t seen him all day and when you’d asked Dean where he was he’d shrugged though you knew he’d probably known. He mumbled something about how he ‘wanted to make an entrance’ and though that didn’t really sound like Sam, you decided to let it go.

You had a long soak in the bath and blow dried your hair. You tried on way too many outfits but in the end settled on a dress. It was black with tiny coloured flowers on it, fitted across the top and the waist, loose around the skirt, not too low cut but there was definitely some cleavage, polite cleavage, and the hem rested above your knee. You hoped it looked good but not try hard. You hoped he’d like it.

You picked out some jewellery, simple earrings, simple necklace and did your make up.

At 7.55 you looked at your reflection in the mirror and, as ever, you could easily find things you’d wish were slightly different, but on the whole, you were pleased. You looked your best and that was all you could do. God, you were nervous.

And then at 8pm on the dot there was a knock on your bedroom door.


	4. Chapter 4

You opened your bedroom door expecting Sam but instead you saw Dean.

“There’s someone at the front door for you.” He said rolling his eyes and then leaving them shut for a moment in annoyance. He looked unamused and as if he couldn’t believe he was being dragged into something so ridiculous but when he saw how happy you looked, he smiled despite himself.

You grabbed your jacket and your purse.

“Really? He’s at the front door?” you asked, with a tone of incredulity in your voice.

“Don’t act like you aren’t loving this.” He said, walking beside you. When you passed the door to his room, he lightly grabbed your arm. “So have fun tonight, OK? And go easy on my brother, he’s not as good with women as I am.”

You smiled at him.

“I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

When you reached the top of the stairs and opened the front door of the bunker, you saw Sam. He was leaning against the Impala. He was wearing jeans and a black button down shirt and he looked…he looked great.

“Hi.” He said, smiling. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You weren’t sure if either of you could smile any wider. You were pretty sure if anybody had been watching they’d have been rolling their eyes at you.

“These are for you.” He said, reaching behind him and producing a big bouquet of sunflowers.

“Oh, wow!” you said, genuinely taken aback and touched. It had been a while since a guy had brought you flowers.

“I know your favourite flowers are peonies but they aren’t in season right now or at least that’s what the lady in the shop said so I thought maybe these would do?”

He extended them to you.

“Because they’re big and clumsy looking but they want to make you smile,” He said, almost sheepishly, “Like me.”

You took the flowers from him and felt a wave of happiness that nearly took you out. Who knew that Sam was so romantic?

“Too much?” he said.

“Just enough.” You replied. “I mean, should I go put them in water?”

He took them off you.

“I’ll handle it.” He said walking to the door and opening it. “Dean!” he shouted.

There was a moment as Dean made his way to the War Room, beneath the stairs. You watched Sam as he turned back to you. “One second.” He said, lifting his finger.

“What?” came Dean’s voice, ringing with irritation.

“Could you please take these and put them in water for Y/N?”

“Do I look like a fucking florist to you?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. You could imagine Dean’s face without having to see it, brow creased with aggravation and disbelief at his brother’s request. Sam ventured further inside and you heard a low but heated exchange that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Fine!” Dean loudly hollered, eventually. “And don’t forget what I said about the sock on the door.”

Your eyes went wide when you heard that but you regained your composure and pretended you hadn’t heard anything as Sam started to head back towards you.

“Shut up, Dean!” you heard Sam say, “And put them in her room OK?”

And then he was back.

He walked to the passenger side door and opened it for you. He shut the door once you were in and comfortable and then walked round to the driver’s side.

When you were both settled in, he started the engine.

“He’s letting you take his Baby?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “He must think tonight’s important to me or something.”

He started to drive and then reached to hold your hand, lightly. You tried to be casual but it made your heart feel like it was lurching out of your chest. He kept it there, occasionally moving it to change gears, but always returning it.

“So,” you said, “may I ask where we’re going on our date?” you hadn’t meant for the words ‘on our date’ to sound so pointed but they came out that way.

“Well….it’s been a while since I’ve taken anyone on a date,“ he said, emphasising the words ‘on a date’ to match your phrasing in a gently mocking way “so I thought we’d go classic ‘date’ and go for dinner. I mean it’s Lebanon, not New York so there aren’t loads of options but I wanted somewhere proper, with actual tablecloths, so I thought we could go to that Italian place you wanted to go to.”

“The one off Main Street? How did you know I wanted to go there?”

“You said.” he replied, “That time, when we all were in town getting supplies we walked past it and Dean said ‘you don’t need to be fancy to eat good pizza, give me a $3 greasy slice any day’” He put on an over the top deep voice to effectively imitate Dean and it made you laugh. “and then he’d said something about the dogs in ‘Lady in the Tramp’ and spaghetti and you laughed and said that you thought it looked nice.”

“You remembered all that?”

“I remember a lot of things.” He said, looking at you briefly and smiling, “I remember thinking, ‘one day, I’m going to take her there and tell her how special she is’ and I remember that that day you wore jeans and a grey t shirt and your hair was down and I remember that when we were shopping in town, the store had the radio on and you didn’t know I could see you down the aisle and you were sort of dancing, well, not dancing but sort of swaying to the music as you looked at shampoo and I thought, ‘she’s really beautiful’ and then Dean came over and said that ‘oh, little brother, you’ve got it bad’ and I told him to shut up.”

“I remember that day.” You said. “That was ages ago. And I remember Dean teasing you about making heart eyes at someone and I thought you must’ve liked a girl but neither of you would tell me who it was.”

“I just did.” He said. “It was you. It was always you…..” he paused for a moment and you melted a little internally as what he’d said sunk in, “…and I don’t think Dean has ever used the expression ‘Heart eyes’”

You put on a deep voice trying to imitate Dean’s pitch and cadence. “Sammy, you were looking like a puppy staring at a T-bone.”

“That’s your Dean impression?” He laughed and it was a real genuine laugh, his body shook with it.

You looked out of the window to try to hide the look on your face because you were sure you were grinning like an idiot. Your reflection confirmed this fact but you found it hard to care. You’d felt a pang of jealousy back then but you had thought, of course he likes a girl, he was a red blooded guy, he was bound to like all sorts of women, lucky girl, you’d thought.

You really were.

You parked up by the restaurant and went in and were seated. The waiter brought two menu’s and a wine list.

“You know, it’s fine, we should have beers.”

“What? I can order us wine. I do drink wine on occasion.” He said.

And you put your hands up in mock surrender.

“OK, I just haven’t seen you do that before.”

“There are a lot of things you haven’t seen me do yet.” He said, looking at you, with eyes that looked hazelnut brown in the candle light. You felt the look deep within you. Sam flirting with you was new but he was better at it than you’d even imagined. You looked down at your menu, biting your lower lip, not embarrassed by him but by your reaction. When you looked back up at him, he hadn’t looked away. He was still looking at you intensely. You felt almost naked under his gaze.

“Not yet.” You said, knowing that it didn’t come out nearly as confidently as you wanted but you cut yourself a little slack, he was sexier than any man you’d been on a date with before, you weren’t surprised that you were disarmed by it.

He raised an eyebrow and flashed a smile that you hadn’t seen before. It was a crooked, half smile that only caused one dimple to form. It was somewhere between cheeky and devilish and man, it was really working for you.

“Hey, look,” you said, changing the conversation, “Linen tablecloths.”

The waited came and took your order and the conversation flowed. It stopped feeling like a date for a while and felt just like you and Sam, talking. Somewhere around dessert you said,

“This is so weird.”

His face fell and suddenly he looked awkward and crestfallen.

“It is?”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean bad, at all! I meant….on the one hand, it just feels like I’m talking to you like I’ve always done, with my friend, the guy I can sit and shoot the shit with and laugh with, y’know? But on the other, we’re like ‘on a date’…and it’s a great date. Best I’ve ever had. Better than I’ve ever imagined.”

He smiled and reached across the table for your hand which looked so small in his. He looked relieved.

When the meal was over, Sam had insisted on paying. (‘You can get it next time.” He’d said and you’d felt happy at the thought of a next time.) You both got back in the car and you had expected that you’d head back to the bunker, but you headed down different roads and pulled up to an open patch of green near some woods. As he pulled a big blanket from the trunk and a couple of beers from the green cooler on the back seat, you asked what he was doing. He put the blanket over Baby’s hood and indicated for you to get on.

“Dean and I do this sometimes, just sit on the hood and look at the stars…”

You hopped on and positioned yourself with your back leaning gently against the front window, legs out in front of you as he handed you an opened beer and got up and joined you.

“…but normally we do it on long drives and we’re out where the sky looks bigger, less light pollution, out in nature and the stars look beautiful, there are so many of them, it’s…” he searched for the right word to do it justice “…well, you’ll see. We’ll take you one day soon. It’s not the same here but…”

“It’s beautiful.” You said, sincerely, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, here’s to things that are beautiful,” he said, tilting his beer bottle towards you, “and perfect.”

He looked into your eyes with meaning and you felt dreamily content as you clinked bottles and leaned back. He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close to him.

“You cold?” he asked, with concern.

“No. I’m good.”

“Well, I’m driving so I can only really have one….precious cargo…” he squeezed you gently for emphasis, “so we don’t have to stay long. I just didn’t want the date to end yet.”

And you both sat there, inside this moment that was more beautiful than anything you had ever dreamed of. It was romantic and relaxed at the same time. It was exciting being near him but it felt like home. It was the closest to a perfect moment as you could ever imagine.

“Hey, Sam…?”

“Yes, Y/N.” he said, saying your name like the word itself made him happy.

“You know, earlier? How did you know that peonies were my favourite flower? I don’t remember ever telling you that. I don’t really know why I would.” You said, half chucking.

“Oh, you wouldn’t remember. You were really wasted.”

“What?”

“It was about a couple of weeks into you moving in. You were still so quiet. You were still recovering. And Dean managed to get you drinking with him. I think you ended up doing shots?! And I joined you guys for a while. It was the first time I saw you relax even a little, the first time I saw you laugh. And, man, Dean loves to tease, it’s just what he does, but you….you gave as good as you got. And you were really funny. And when he was busting my balls about stuff you sort of stepped in and defended me, which I absolutely didn’t need, by the way…..” he said, pretending to defend his masculinity “and we both thought ‘who is this girl?’ y’know? You let your guard down for the first time and I saw how beautiful you were when you laughed, and how clever you were and…I don’t know…I just saw you….”

He paused to take a sip before continuing.

“…but man, you got wasted, like really wasted and I ended up having to carry you to your bed.”

“What? I don’t remember that. I must’ve been heavy.”

He looked at you as if you were being ridiculous. It was very nearly the bitch face that Dean and you teased him about, lovingly of course.

“You were fine.” He said. “I put you in your bed but you still had your arms around my neck and you said ‘Don’t go. Just stay with me until I fall asleep.’ And I mean, you were gone so it was only going to be a minute anyway, so I stayed…and you held on to me really tightly, and curled up, arms around me, legs over mine, head deep in my neck and you said ‘Thank you, Sam, you always save me.’ And I thought, ‘Well, I always want to try’ and I asked you then what your favourite flowers were because I knew one day I’d want to take you out, bring you flowers…”

He said all this like it wasn’t a big deal when it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to you. If you were falling for him before, you were gaining terminal velocity now. The arm around you lay so that his fingers easily and softly stroked your arm as you talked. You were so aware of his touch. It felt intoxicating.

“That was…so long ago.”

He lifted his hand to softly graze your face and turned it gently to his and looking into your eyes in the moonlight said “When you know, you know.”

“Of course,” he continued, “you were slurry and half asleep so when you said peonies it came out sounding like something must worse.”

“Oh no!” you said as you both cracked up, the force of your laughter, pushing you into each other.

“You know…” you said, when you’d regained some composure, “you remember a lot of stuff. And you are so…” he turned his head to you and narrowed one eye, eager to hear how you were going to conclude your sentence, “…romantic. I didn’t know that about you.”

“What, you thought I was all dusty old facts and true crime stats?” he laughed softly, taking a sip from his bottle, “Honestly? I don’t think I used to be. But it’s no secret that I haven’t had the best history, romantically speaking, with women…and I got to a point where I wanted to you know, find someone, someone special but I just didn’t think it was in the cards for me, but I thought…if…IF…I find it, if I find her…I’m going to treat her so right, I’m going to do it right this time, y’know. This life…the life me and Dean have…it’s hard and there is blood and pain…and I guess if something comes along that looks like happiness…I know how rare that is, I know how special….I just want to treat it that way…why is it weird?”

“No, it’s….incredible. It’s just, I remember stuff too. I remember being terrified and scared and sure I was going to die, horribly, and these two guys burst in and they were…I mean, have you seen you guys? With the fighting and the guns and the chopping off heads? It was…badass as hell…”

He laughed into his beer.

“…and you came and untied me, covered in blood, huge knife still in your hand. I mean, your 8 foot tall practically with your big man shoulders…and I should have been terrified, I was terrified, but you crouched down to me and asked if I was OK and the look on your face…the look in your eyes…I knew I was going to be OK. I knew now you’d found me and saved me, I was going to be OK.”

“Well…I wouldn’t have guessed that when you were sitting on the other side of the library…as far way from me as you could get…”

“I was…”

He turned to you, waiting for you to finish your words, wanting to understand.

“…scared.”

“Of me?”

“Sort of.” Seeing his wounded face, you quickly continued, “When I was close to you, I just…all I wanted to do was reach out and touch you.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“Maybe….because I was scared that if I let myself…reach for you…even once…I’d never be able to stop doing it.”

He placed his bottle on the hood, on the other side of him and turned, you still in the crook of his arm but his face just inches from yours. “Maybe that’s OK, maybe you should do it anyway…”

You lifted your hand and reached out to cup his face. You tenderly stroked his cheek with your thumb, your fingers in his hair and it wasn’t fear you felt, peace perhaps? But not fear.

He lifted his hand too and mirrored your move, his beautiful big hand on the side of your face, fingers curling in your hair, tenderness in his touch.

“See…” he said, his voice low and soft, “…it’s not so bad.”

And then slowly, but with confidence, he kissed you.

His lips were soft at first, just touching yours delicately but then they were moving against you and parted slightly as you felt his tongue, ever so gently glide over your lower lip and meet yours. His hand moved further into your hair and your bodies effortlessly moved to be closer, as close as you could be. It was your first kiss with Sam and the best kiss of your life.

You stayed there, kissing under the stars, for a while. Whenever, he’d pull back from you, just for a moment, he’d look at you and smile. It was a smile that was so genuine, he looked so happy to be there with you, like this.

Eventually, he ended a deep, languorous kiss with a few softer, smaller ones and pulled away, his forehead still resting on yours. He ran his hands over your arms.

“You’re cold.” He stated. “Let’s get you home.”

And home you went, his hand on yours throughout the drive but this time it didn’t panic you, it just felt as if that was where it belonged.

Ever the gentleman, he walked you to your bedroom door.

“Tonight was….amazing.” you said, failing to find a word good enough.

“I liked it.” He said, pulling you towards him and kissing you again. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to how good it felt. In your kiss, you found yourself leaning against your door, though he hadn’t pushed.

“We should do it again sometime.” he said and kissed you again, “Soon.”

He squeezed you in his arms and went to move away.

“Well…” he said, “Goodnight.”

You looked at him and smiled slyly.

“Unless you wanted to come in, “ you said, enjoying this whole ‘doorstep kiss at the end of your date’ thing that was playing out, “for coffee?”

He looked down at the ground and then up into your eyes. He lifted an eyebrow and did some sort of half smile smirk, but there was no malice in it, it was playful. The kind of smile that could be described as roguish or wolfish perhaps.

“I don’t recall you having a coffee machine in there?”

You put your hand on the back of his neck and slowly pulled him closer to you. You bit your lower lip and then stage whispered “When I said ‘coffee’, I didn’t really mean coffee.”

“Oh.” He said, playing along and over acting with you. “Well…we can have coffee…if you want coffee…but I didn’t want you to feel like we had to have coffee…tonight was perfect either way so…” he trailed off.

“I could go for some coffee,“ you said, ”with you. Do you want….” You weren’t sure you could say the word ‘coffee’ again, though it was fun, playing like this.

“Oh, baby….there is nothing I want more in this world…”he punctuated his speech with kisses that seemed to be getting slowly hotter and more intense, “than…to…have…coffee…..with you…right now.”

You weren’t sure where this self assured sexy confident side of Sam had come from but it was hot as hell and you were loving it. This time he did push you up against the door and he reached behind you to open it, guiding you backwards through the doorway.

“You know, I don’t have a coffee machine in here, that’s true,” you said, as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing kisses hotter than lava in their wake, “but I’m pretty sure I can find you a sock.”

“What?…” he said, pulling back to look at you confused.

“For the door.” You said, raising your eyebrows cheekily at him.

“Oh…you heard that, huh?” he said and you watched him go from wolfish to sheepish in an instant. It was beyond adorable.

“Yeah, I’ve heard Dean say stuff like that to you before…I just never thought I’d be the reason for the sock.”

He put his arms around you and looked at you earnestly.

“I did.” He said as he reached to shut the door behind you both and just before his lips returned to your neck he said, “Or at least, I hoped.”


End file.
